“Lady raised them,” said the Detective. “Then electrocuted them for their pelts.”

“Madonna still wears chinchilla,” said the Coroner. “They spared one lucky guy.”

A lone chinchilla sat in a cage with two rotting, wire-trailing buddies.

The lady on the garage floor was as dead as the rodents; a skinning knife stuck in her chest, a PETA calling card between her fingers.

“I’ll take the survivor home,” said the Coroner. “The kids want a pet.”

“Name it Lucky?” asked the Detective. “Madonna?”

“Off.”

The detective looked over the chinchilla operation, and handed her a cage.

“Grab some food,” he said.

**************************************************

Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields chose one of my photos, the electric panel on my kiln, to be the prompt at Friday Fictioneers today. The photo caught a friend’s attention and she said she’d like to write a story sometime, but didn’t blog. Since I can’t rely entirely on my granddaughter Ula to write my blog for me (while I take time off on a project) I invited Mary Ellen to write a story for TedBook. She did, and added a few photos of her own. It took me a while to understand her story, but after some thinking I got it. See if you get it.

Mary Ellen Courtney lives in Friday Harbor, Washington and writes novels. She is currently working on the third book of a trilogy. Wild Nights was the first, followed up by Spring Moon and both have won numerous awards. She would be too modest to brag, but you all know me and I’m not… I have listed them below.

The other day, I shared this ‘America’s Funniest Home Videos video of a guy playing with puppies, with a friend on facebook… she is not just any dog lover, but a world-renowned artist who specializes in paintings of dogs. Other animals sometimes come out of her brush, but mostly… Dogs. She is also President of the Animal Shelter on San Juan Island and an all around champion of animal rights. Here she is in her studio holding my favorite Dog Painting, and you can view her work here… JAIME ELLSWORTH

So, she makes this smart-aleck comment about the guy being her brother, and I like a dope say “Is it really your brother?” I was astounded by her reply, and immediately thought… TedBook!

Jaime Ellsworth“No…but we could be long-lost twins separated at birth by a baby snatching nurse who sold him off for money for cash to gamble away in Vegas. She drank too much and lost all the money, and then felt so guilty about her dirty deed that she became a hooker to try to buy the baby back. Sadly that was her downfall as she became addicted to heroin and spent every penny she had on drugs. My brothers faux parents could never figure out why he preferred the company of dogs so much because they were told his real parents were busy astronauts and never had any attachment to animals or children as they were always in space. As a child he was never allowed to have a pet and made up for it in his adulthood by stalking people at pet stores who bought puppy chow and followed them home, waited until they went to work and climbed in the puppies play yards to fill his heart with all the puppy love he was so denied as a child……….to be continued…. “

So what do you think? Artist becomes Author? I for one am looking forward to the ‘to be continued…’

To see a previous TedBook story about The Painter of Dogs, and a show at Waterworks Gallery in Friday Harbor…

UlaG & Me… on the ferry, after picking her up at SeaTac Airport, coming home from Myanmar last year.

Some gifts cannot be bought… this is one of those. I have been encouraging my granddaughter to write some stories for TedBook. She is taking a creative writing class at school and I think is a clever writer. She is a lucky girl, as she has traveled the globe with her parents since she was a baby… every year. They always take a trip in January and get home in February… It is cold here and they go to warm places. I pick them up at the airport, quite a sight in their shorts and flip-flops, and return them to Friday Harbor. Last year they trekked through Myanmar for six weeks. She promised to write a story about the children there, complete with photos she took… I’m holding her to it. Hopefully this will be a start to more stories from the pen of UlaG.

I am the doorknob. I feel gloved hands – rough work gloves. They twist me to the right and open the door. The hands are big and have been working all day. I feel their relief at being done with work. He closes this door behind him and I feel him take hold of my counterpart on the other side of the door, so that the door won’t slam. Small hands reach up, barely reaching me, the little hands gritty with dirt from playing outside. They turn me to the right and run inside not stopping to close this door. Gentle hands close the door behind the laughing child. Someone knocks on this door. I feel the vibrations through the door. The gentle hands twist my counterpart on the inside to the left and open the door. The hands accept something from the hands which knocked and the woman closes the door with her hip.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

Please join me in welcoming guest author, Ula Grace. “The Doorknob”is her first submission as TedBook’s newest staff member. She promises to write about her recent month-long journey through Myanmar, complete with photos she took. Ula is honing her writing skills at Spring Street International School in Friday Harbor, Washington.

Like this:

Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest… The Departure

I must be off to a place called The Emerald City on the morrow. I have heard there are Witches there, both good and bad. The good ones are hot, I was informed, so if I hath to meet a Witch, I hope she is a good one. Oh… what if I am being sent to a Witch… a bad one? Would the writer with the lilac hair be so cruel? Oh, yes… I said “Lilac”. My host has something they call ‘photographic evidence’ and showed me this…

Seeing her visage brings back the memories of a night long ago when this world tour thing started. Here I was, having fun playing with her son and daughter, waiting for my next chance to save the human’s world, and one night she takes me to a den of iniquity filled with lusty maidens of exotic scents. My excitement soon turned to fear as a furious squealing and shrieking ensued with such frantic pawing of my person. Each one had to have her turn twisting and turning my body and looking under my cape. Telling them I was the God of Thunder only made it worse. What I couldn’t figure out, was that they were all calling me Chris! I soon learned that I would be forced to visit each one of them, and they are all writers! And, that was only the start. I still carry a portrait in my cape of that fateful night…

I was given this as a memento when I visited my bosom buddy and her little white dog, in someplace called Colorado. That is her on thy right… one guess who is on thy left. It is nice to be loved, but this whole Chris thing has me perplexed. So that is how this whole affair started. My host is preparing another coffin, he calls it a shipping container, for the morrow. But first I plan to be checking on a curious sight I saw in the village. I passed a garish building with a poster of a flying man in a red cape like mine…

I enter the building behind some small humans and my senses are immediately assaulted with the heady scent of butter. I am curious to see if he is one of the Avengers. I have not heard of him, but he is quite handsome and I wonder if the female writers will be sending him on a tour. It is quite dark inside, filled with little humans making awful chewing and smacking sounds. The wall soon bursts with light and comes alive. I am not sure what is happening, but it is loud and exciting. The man in the red cape soon appears and I realize how comic his appearance, and what an impostor he proves to be, Man of Steel indeed. He is a Fairy Tale… A Fraud! I stand and cry “I Am The God Of Thunder… Bow Down Before Me!!!” I am quickly shushed and ushered outside.

So it is with heavy heart that I must take my leave from this perplexing island. My stay has been enjoyable, and I am curious to see the color of the nail polish on the fingers that next open my ‘shipping container’. My only hope is that she has a girl-child with friends. Or maybe it will be Witch or a Wizard instead and I must wield the mighty Mjollnir! I am The God of Thunder and the God of Earth!!!

*************************************

Editor’s note: From the Sheriff’s Log in the ‘Journal of the San Juans’…6/23 ~ Deputies across San Juan Island have been on alert for a small man, dressed in an eccentric costume, creating a public nuisance and harassing citizens. He suddenly appears and forces them to bow down before him. He has some type of weapon described as resembling a mallet. He has also been sighted on Orcas Island previously. It is known that he has been evicted from Herb’s Tavern, The Palace Theater, McMillan’s Dinning Room and The Hungry Clam. The Washington State Ferry System and the Coast Guard have been put on alert, and automobiles leaving the island will be searched. He will be apprehended.

June 24, 2013 ~ In recognizing his efforts in saving the world, a grateful nation arranges for an agency of the federal government to transport Thor off the Island.

Somewhere on a small island in the Great Pacific Northwest… The Mausoleum

I awake early anticipation engulfing my body, starting with a tingle and erupting into The God of Thunder!!! Today, I shall have answers! I quickly dress and, borrowing the Barbie’s automobile, proceed toward Roche Harbor Road and the Land of Afterglow, where dwells something called The Mausoleum. I am hopeful the link to Asgard is awaiting me. The Barbie auto sputters to a stop. I have heard they are a thoughtless lot, and have no doubt neglected to supply needed fuel. I espy a horse in a nearby field and give careful examination.

Cursed animal… doth sleepy or bored! Even my Mighty Hammer fails to impress. Besides, what good is a horse without wings? I hasten to the village on foot, wanting to conserve my strength, as I have been quite active of late. I hearest tell of a hearty animal, by some mortals swilling their infernal coffee, who will be willing to take me to this Afterglow. Only, it is guarded by a fierce ogre. “Fierce Ogres are my speciality, as I am The God of Thunder and The God ofEarth!“, I shout. They say, “Okay, he’s over there.” We meet and I immediately tell him to “Bow Down Before Me!!!” The odious sloth defers and I swing into action with The Mighty Hammer. (See, I am learning of this thing called puns)

“Appease me Sir… Victory will be mine!” He is no Hrungnir, and I vanquish this foe with but one swing of mighty Mjollnir. He begs me take my leave. I shout “Fare thee well!’, not wishing to apearest rude, as I mount his trusty steed and head to the Hills of Afterglow.

The journey is long, but soon we draw near to the forest of this Afterglow I have sought. A Sign! “The Mausoleum Straight Ahead ➪” I take this as a good omen. Worthless animal trembles with fear and will go no farther. I dismount and it promptly falls asleep. ‘What is it with the animals on this strange island’, I wonder. I plunged into the woods and follow a time-worn path. I soon come upon an ancient cemetery.

There is a stillness in the air as I gaze upon the funerary monuments before me. The dead are enclosed in familial plots, of varying degrees of wealth it seems. I had heard the common folk had been buried in the forest on the way to the tomb of the mighty. I decide, as The God of Earth, I must spend some time with these departed souls. I wander the woods and pause to visit in respect.

I find Agnes and Mamie… they died young. I think I would have liked to have played with them, because I have met many mini maidens who believed in The God of Thunder and introduced him to many wonders.

I encounter all manner of enclosures, some well-tended, some seemingly forgotten. Amidst weeds I come across the statue of a fawn. A tear comes to my eye, as this signifies the resting place of another young one. I cannot make out the name on the weathered stone. Better luck with Kendo, he was an elder and only departed recently.

I take my leave and continue the path, climbing higher and higher through the forest. I come upon a clearing, and in the distance I find… Afterglow Vista and The Mausoleum… that which I seek!

Light filters through the branches of trees to deposit a gentle glow inside the monument. I ascend the weathered stones to reach the summit and behold with awe the greatness of The Mausoleum!

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TedBook is dedicated to the musings and pseudo-literary efforts of Ted Strutz and his ‘friends’ who care to comment. The Book is kept in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island in the Great Pacific Northwest and is open 24/7 for any who care to turn a page.

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